


Evil Urges

by typhooning



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Light D/s, Sub Loki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-23
Updated: 2013-10-23
Packaged: 2017-12-30 05:20:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1014609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/typhooning/pseuds/typhooning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki receives a just reward for his offenses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Evil Urges

**Author's Note:**

> I'll get back to my other story, Blue. I have to nit pick a few more chapters before I'm satisfied. In the mean time, this happened. I needed to write a Loki smut fic. Like most of us suffering from Loki Thirst, that Thor 2 trailer did a number on me and I just kept thinking about how submissive he can be...oof. Then a few days ago I was furious about something and then I was writing about this lady smacking Loki a lot while she kissed him. I got suuuuper carried away with the build up but I think it's worth it. 
> 
> I also did weirdly a lot of research on this character, Duva. She's technically not of Asgard, though her parents are the gods of the sea. She and her nine sisters are kind of like the Muses as I see it, only they represent different aspects of the ocean, mostly waves n that. Anyways, they're all super rad and who knows, I might dive into their stories with the Aesir a bit later. But for now, here's some of Duva putting Loki in his place. x

She stormed down the hallway, her ferocious steps intensified by the cold marble. It was rare for her to leave the seclusion of her favorite isles on Midgard, or to venture far away from her sisters, especially when in the home of the All Father. But a slight to her sisters does not go unpunished. She pitied the soul to slight her while she was in such a state. Lightening flashed behind her almost-black eyes, her painted burgundy lips threatening to spill in a scream loud enough to crack Yggdrasil’s trunk. She felt the hairs on her skin standing on edge and she felt the thirst for wrath deep in her bones. The memory of her sisters’ horrified faces served as the drive to every step she took.

She sharply turned a corner; her robes flew behind her like waves crashing on sharp rocks, only to undulate back into the stormy sea. She quickly brushed by a group of younger maidens, eyes wide with worry, but she felt the sigh of relief that passed over the women when she paid them little attention. Her rage was fabled among the Aesir; while it was not her constant companion, when she traded in her solitude and quiet demeanor for the fury that now filled her, it frightened any who stood in her way. The last time her mood had been so fierce it had been a servant who took the brunt of her rage. She had apologized endlessly and bashfully, not solely due to her unprompted rage against a young man who hadn’t merited it, but because the one responsible had not paid for his sins against her.

No, she would not allow this again.

She had to find Thor.

 

\---

 

The most unsoundly rapping on his chamber door awoke Fandral from a most peaceful slumber. He shot up in bed, unsheathing the knife he keeps under his pillow. The only thing that accompanied him was the light that poured into his room, telling him it was well into the afternoon. He groaned sleepily as the banging grew even louder.

“Yes, yes! I come anon!” he shouted as he slipped a tunic over his head. He slowly trudged to the other side of his chamber and threw the door open, only to be pushed aside by a very anxious Volstagg.

“Still abed at this hour??” the self-proclaimed Lion of Asgard was hardly living up to his name. He was ringing his hands anxiously, eyes darting around the room. “How could you possibly still be sleeping like a babe?”

“How could _you_ possibly forget of my adventures yesterday that would lead me toe be so exhausted?” the sleep was still heavy in Fandral’s voice as he spoke. “It’s always exhausting returning from Midgard! And I was having the most wondrous dream…” He tried to bring back a more vivid image of _her_ entertaining him most deliciously in his dreamscape.

“Well, I am so very sorry to interrupt your imagined _trysts_ ,” Volstagg would have been more irritated with his comrade’s behavior, were it not for the fear in his eyes. “But we have quite a predicament on our hands!”

Fandral rubbed his eyes, crossing the barrier back towards his bed. “And what could that be, my dear Volstagg? Don’t tell me the kitchens are low on mutton again?” he teased as he threw himself back onto the soft downy comfort his immaculate bedding provided.

Volstagg was close to bursting in his anxiety. “This is no time for jests, Fandral! We are in grave danger, all of us!”

“Who?”

“Us!”

“Who is included in the us?? You and I? All the citizens of Asgard?”

“YES, Fandral! All of us, those of us who journeyed to Midgard yesterday for what we _thought_ was a most rousing adventure into the depths of the ocean: you and I and Hogun and Thor and Loki, we are all in grave trouble!”

Until now, Fandral had been incredibly uninterested in his friend’s ramblings, more concerned with conjuring a new paramour that his subconscious could occupy when he returned to sleep. But Volstagg’s words sent chills down his spine. He sat up and mirrored his look of worry.

“They know?”

“They know.”

“And who did they send?”

Volstagg gulped. “Duva.”

 

\---

 

The Warriors Three found Sif on the training grounds. She took down yet another of the royal guard with the strength, ease, and grace that only a true maiden warrior could. She smirked triumphantly as the young guard grunted in pain as he stood.

“I yield, my lady,” he said, suddenly remembering humility better than a few moments ago.

“Tis a hard learned lesson, young soldier, to never underestimate your enemy,” she said kindly, “you cannot rely solely on your confidence to win.”

He bowed and hobbled back to his fellows, all of them chuckling at the newer recruits grave mistake of challenging her. Sif wiped the sweat off of her forehead as she watched the exchange. Suddenly, several in the group moved to make room for a much more interesting sight. Volstagg and a half-dressed Fandral came barreling towards her, with Hogun trailing behind them, nowhere as anxious as his comrades.

“What have you done now,” she said more as a statement than a question, wondering to the higher powers what ill they had _not_ caused.

Volstagg fell to his knees before her, hands clasped, imploring. “Oh, lady! Please, we beseech your aid!” She rolled her eyes at his antics; he was forever the most theatrical of the three.

“We are in desperate need of you, Sif,” Fandral pleaded.

“And you have yet to answer my question: what have you done?” she said with more of an edge in her voice. She had been training for so long that day, she was naught to suffer the larks of Volstagg and Fandral.

“Duva has come to Asgard,” Hogun, the only rational one, told her.

Sif raised an eyebrow. “That is a surprise! She is never one to leave the coves and secluded beaches of her domain. Does she bring Kolga or Bara?”

“Now is not the time for exchanging battle stories with old comerades!” Fandral exclaimed, becoming more visibly upset. “She seeks vengeance against us for a slight.”

Sif was hardly surprised; Duva rarely came to Asgard, unless seeking audience with the All Father or to receive something for her mother, Rán, always traveling with her beloved sisters. But there have been times when she ventures alone to the Realm Eternal for her own devices, and seldom are they merry visits.

“I’m certain your behavior dictates whatever wrath she seeks,” Sif concluded, sheathing her twin knives.

Volstagg, still on his knees, looked dumbfounded at her words. “Sif, you have seen the power Aegir’s Nine possess. They are as terrible and capricious as the sea!”

“And since you spent all of yesterday splashing about and returned to Asgard safely, surely such warriors of your status can withstand the retribution of only one of Aegir’s daughters,” she said, turning her back to them.

She heard a frustrated shout come from behind her, but did not look back at the fools who thought to rouse Duva’s anger. Sif smiled wickedly to herself, glad to penalize her comrades who had been so arrogant as to deny her accompanying them on their voyage to the vast seas of Midgard.

Duva could stir up enough anger to drown islands, but she would not destroy the Aesir as she would a Midgardian who crosses her. Still, it was nice to know that her brothers in arms were as terrified as children at the thought of her retribution.

           

\---

 

Thor, son of Odin, one of the most fearsome warriors in all the Nine Realms, a proud and powerful Aesir, felt his nerves at end. Behind him were Hogun, as inscrutable as usual; Fandral and Volstagg, who had been quite unnerved since coming to Thor that afternoon; and Loki, his mischievous but oft nefarious younger brother. He rarely took the consequences to his roguish behavior seriously and this was no such exception, his mouth was turned in a slightly wicked smile as he lounged in his chair, examining his short knife with little interest.

Before Thor was Duva, the second of Aegir’s daughters. She stood silently but her eyes were a frightening storm. The thick black hair she usually kept in a long braid down her back was loose and wild, framing her beautiful face in dark waves of rage. Her gold bracelets sparkled brightly and her deep mahogany skin caught the late afternoon sunlight and the shadows that crossed her face would be enough to give the All Father pause. Her dress flew behind her like waves in a hurricane and the vicious steps she took into the room made the hair on Thor’s neck stand on end (he could only imagine how his fellows faired behind him). The soft aqua of her dress was lost in the rich red and orange of the sun that absorbed her figure, but the fabric did not hide her blade, sheathed in a delicate golden scabbard.

He recalled the many occasions he had been fortunate enough to gaze upon the beauty of her sisters and of Duva; she was always quiet, but anger was not her usual bearing. She and Kolga were the two most reserved of the Nine. Duva had dominion over smaller islands while others were more ferocious in nature and in duties under Aegir and Rán, their parents, lord and lady of the seas. And though each sister was different in look and disposition, one trait they shared was absolute: loyalty to each other.

Never had Thor seen a more innate and vicious allegiance than the one between these nine sisters of the sea. They never provoked disagreements and were always in support of one another, regardless of the circumstances. They were bound by blood, by love, and by eons spent together. Aegir’s Nine were as deadly as they were beautiful. And Duva was the Hidden One, the keeper of treasures made and found in the sea. She protected the unseen riches of the deep. Her pride came from concealing them from unworthy eyes and entrusting them to those who had proven their merit. She was quiet and oft withdrawn from the world as was the eldest sister, but as one of Aegir’s daughters, it is beyond foolish to betray the trust of even one, lest he incur the wrath of all.

And Duva had brought hers to Asgard.

The errors of Thor, his brother, and the Warriors Three had indeed awoken the sleeping beast inside her, which Thor was now failing to quell. Only yesterday, he and his brethren had embarked on a short journey to Midgard, to celebrate a most recent victory against lesser foes. What had begun as a romp through the sandy shores of the realm, quickly turned into a competition between the warriors.

_“Come, Volstagg. Fandral,” Loki taunted, his eyes sparkling green in mirth. “Surely one of you must be superior in such a pursuit.”_

_“Aye, and our dear friend Volstagg has been left wanting in this particular discipline,” Fandral laughed, clapping the man in question on the back, which coincidentally made him choke on the succulent crab meat in which he was currently indulging._

_“How dare you!” Volstagg spat the crab out of his mouth as he shouted. He quickly grabbed a new crab leg and shook it at Fandral. “Do not question my abilities, sir, for I have quite a reputation in almost all of the Nine Realms!”_

_“Mayhap you are mistaking your potency with the fairer sex with your appetite, for **I** have yet to hear of a cook in **any** of the Nine Realms whose kitchen doors do not shake from fear of hearing your name!” Fandral laughed._

_Thor had just returned from a short swim, his body glistening in the warm tropical sunlight. He interjected, “Come, Fandral, you jest as if you have never **seen** Volstagg with a woman! Let us be merry on this occasion, not quarrel for second ranking.”_

_Loki was nearly giddy with the turn of events, laughing at the contempt with which his companions looked at his elder brother.  “And who, o mighty and virile Thor, would you claim, holds the greatest favor of our Asgardian women?”_

_Thor gave a roaring chuckle. “Brother, my abundance of gifts is hardly unknown to our subjects, chiefly thanks to the tales my conquests that have spread throughout Asgard.”_

_“So within our company,” Volstagg said, “you would consider yourself to be the most talented in the courtship and bedding of women!”_

_Fandral sighed. “I can hardly argue. Do you remember the Midsummer festivals fifteen years ago?”_

_“Who could forget last year, when you bested your own count of women in a week’s time?” Volstagg added._

_“Exactly!” Thor shouted with joy, snatching the final crab leg from Volstagg. “We five are all known throughout the lands as mighty warriors and lovers… I simply have a greater reputation to uphold than either you or Fandral.”_

_All the men, even Hogun, began laughing as they recalled the most raucous and grand of their (but mostly Thor’s) sexual conquests, from all corners of the Nine Realms. The noise they roused could have been enough to wake the All Father, who was in the middle of an Odinsleep. Loki participated enough so as not to raise any suspicions, but at a lull in the merrymaking, he put forth the last of his plan._

_“I think I know of a way to prove who has greater fortune in the art of seduction,” he said smoothly. “Luckily for both of you, we happened upon this particular setting to play out a small contest.”_

_“Were you not the one who suggested Midgard, Loki?” Hogun asked, suddenly suspicious._

_The younger of Odin’s sons only smiled mystically. “I happen to know that Himinglava, the youngest and most beautiful of Aegir’s daughters, resides here. She is—how shall I put this?— quite virtuous in nature, the most innocent of the Nine. Many have tried to seduce this most stunning of sirens, but none that I know have ever succeeded. So I propose, whomsoever is able to win her affections and a place in her bed before the day is out shall be victorious as a more potent lover.”_

_His excitement at the prospect of the disorder this would cause showed, but all the men seemed just as eager, though for different reasons._

_“And excellent wager, dear brother!” Thor said. He clapped both Fandral and Volstagg on the back. “The man to bed Aegir’s most bewitching of daughters shall be next only to **me** in abilities with the sweeter sex.”_

_They all grinned wickedly as Fandral and Volstagg shook in concordance and quickly moved off to search for their newest target._

_Fandral found her at dusk and had returned by night’s fall. The moon’s light reflected off of his shining smile, as he reached into his pocket to show the spoils of his conquest, while Volstagg looked on jealously._

_“A lock of her golden hair,” Fandral bragged, bringing it to his nose and inhaling the sweet scent that still lingered, “and a promise for her undying love!”_

_“Dear friend!” Thor laughed heartily. “I would call you cruel for deceiving the poor girl. But come, there must be more to this story than locks of hair and words of imagined love!”_

_“Yes, Fandral,” Loki egged on. “Did she not bestow upon you anything of real worth?”_

_Fandral winked. “Ah, my friends. Thor, you are my prince and brother in arms, but I fear that despite your numbers, I have bested you in a far more significant category.”_

_“And what would you call such skill?” Thor asked._

_“My potency surely surpasses yours,” the slimmer of the two replied. “For you see, she has gifted me with something almost comparable to her maidenhead!”_

_“Come, come, enough boasting!” Volstagg cried._

_Fandral chuckled in triumph. “No need to hurry this along! The dear Himinglava has gifted me with…”_

“The Ring of Mistarblindi!” Duva shouted. “You _stole_ it!”

Fandral’s pride and vanity had all but left him at the sight of Duva, the keeper of the Ring. “Ah, technically, my lady,” he began, his voice like a frightened child, “it was Himinglava who gifted me with the ring. It was a token of her de—”

“Do not speak of what you do not know!” Duva’s voice shook in the room, frightening Fandral even more. “The Ring belonged to my father’s father, I am its guardian. My sister had no right to give it away, especially to the likes of you, _Aesir_!”

“You will not insult my comrade, or my people, Lady!” Volstagg chimed in, his fear forgotten at the slight to his Asgardian brethren.

“This is not your fight, sir,” she warned darkly, "but I will not hesitate to include, if tempted.”

“Enough!” Thor shouted. The earth beneath them shook and a roll of thunder cracked in warning. His friends were shaken, but Duva remained unmoved by the outburst.

“My lady,” Thor said calmly, stepping down from the dais, suddenly calm, “we wish to apologize for the slight against your sister’s honor and your pride. Please take the ring and our sincerest regrets. We are ashamed that our childish larks would besmirch Himinglava’s honor among other maidens.”

Duva raised an eyebrow. “Her _honor_?”

Fandral stepped forward bashfully. “Yes, for your sister came to give me the ring as a token after we…” he gulped, suddenly too nervous to finish the thought, unsure of the further rage it would bring on from the tempestuous woman. He approached her and on bended knee, presented her with the ring. She took it uninterestingly, more concerned with Fandral’s words, and bid him to stand.

“You bedded my sister?” Duva asked, far more calm than he had thought she would react.

Fandral nodded, cowering at their proximity. “And I offer my regrets for so cruelly taking away her honor, for the sake of a gamble.”

Duva sighed heavily, her rage replaced suddenly with frustration. “My lords, Himinglava is gentle and innocent, yes. But Lord Fandral did not take her virtue from her. She has not been a maiden for decades. I fear _you_ were the ones who were deceived last night.”

The faces plastered on Fandral, Thor, and Volstagg almost made her laugh. “I am sorry to disappoint you, but she has tricked many rogues with her pure reputation. She may seem sweet and pliable, but Himinglava is as voracious as any man I have ever known. It is her nature to betray her conquests, but I am not—”

“ _Her_ conquests?” Fandral shouted, remembering his fortitude. “I will not be treated as such by a _woman_!”

“I must apologize for my sister’s actions, my lord,” Duva bowed deeply, but her sharp smile gave away her true intentions, “I did not know she would offend you so. I shall return home to tell her how deeply she has hurt you.”

“No! I…” Fandral’s cheeks turned a bright red while Volstagg chortled with joy at this new development. Even Thor had to hide his laughter.

“My lady, then we should apologize for attempting such a trick on your sister. Clearly, her reputation is formidable, but we should not have given her reason to pilfer what you have been charged to protect. And my dear friend is sorry for accepting such a token, are you not, Fandral?”

“I am, my lady,” Fandral mumbled, still wounded.

Thor laughed as he approached her. “Then the matter is settled?”

Duva looked upon him, the fury in her eyes returned.

“I will have words with your brother.”

“My lady, surely there is nothing to further punish?” Thor said hopefully. “What was taken from you has now been retrieved and you can return to your home.”

“Not quite,” she said, her eyes now finding a new target. However, Loki was still terribly uninterested in the events that just transpired. He sighed heavily as he used his knife to clean imaginary dirt from under his nails. “This ring is a mere trinket—an important one, yes, but with little consequence of its bearer. What your brother has taken from me I must take back on my own terms.”

Thor opened his mouth, ready to protest.

“Peace, brother,” Loki finally seemed aware enough to speak. “If the Lady Duva wishes to settle affairs with me, I have no reason not to oblige.”

Thor sighed. “Very well. My lady, you have full domain in the throne room. There are guards posted outside the doorway, should they be needed.” It was a reminder, but a thinly veiled threat. Duva rolled her eyes, knowing why her father had always been skeptical to engage so directly with the Aesir.

“Many thanks, son of Odin.”

His companions quickly departed, Volstagg looking worriedly through the closing doors as the Hidden One turned her gaze to Loki.

“If you wish for an audience with me, my lady,” Loki said, “tis far less ceremony to seek me out in my chambers.”

Duva sized him up as he approached her. The last time she had ventured to Asgard to seek justice, Loki had again been behind the entire operation. He had not stolen any of her treasures, but used his magic to move them, hiding them from the sight of even Heimdell the Gate Keeper. It had taken an accord between their fathers and a very real threat from Odin before Loki revealed their location: inside an underwater volcano. She called upon four of her sisters to help her retrieve what was taken from her. And now again Loki had crossed her. She felt the anger in her swell to an apex.

Though he stood a full head taller than her, Loki’s height did little to shake her stance, certain and secure. She knew he used his cunning and his handsome features to overwhelm and seduce the women of Asgard, but she was her father’s daughter, forever dubious of the motives of Asgardians and avoiding their company if she could help it. Loki’s penetrating gaze would normally send a shy maiden falling into his arms. Duva matched his stare, refusing to give any quarter.

“You had _no_ right,” she said, “to enter _my_ domain and steal what is—”

“Lady Duva, I hardly had anything to do with Fandral’s actions,” Loki mocked, “and I how was _I_ to know that your silly fickle sister would give away such a prized family heirloom? It seems your quarrel is with her, not me.”

She narrowed her eyes, taking a step closer towards him. “Your brother may be blind to your web of lies, but I am not. Your Silvertongue will not move me. You know exactly what Himinglava is and you knew exactly what you were doing. You would do well not to trouble me or any of my sisters again.”

“Do you threaten a son of Odin?” he matched her move forward, never once breaking eye contact. “I could have you flogged for such sacrilege.”

“I do not pay homage to your father, nor your brother, and certainly not to you. I fear not the consequences of my words but you would do well to heed my warning. Do not tempt my wrath again!”

Loki raised his eyebrows his grin only growing wider. “But this time you’ve chosen not to hide behind the robes of your father! What has changed since our last meeting? Are you suddenly unafraid to truly _punish_ me for such wrongdoing?”

It was the way he said it that confused her. Was punishment what he sought? He seemed quite purposeful in his words, leading Duva to belief that Loki did really mean to taunt her to do more than chastise him. Neither one blinked or even moved, lest they forfeit their stalemate. Loki’s grin had fallen as he saw the determination behind Duva’s eyes, the wheels in her mind were turning quickly as she decided how best to handle Odin’s younger son.

His eyes, usually sparkling with mirth and mischief, were even brighter. Was it anticipation? Was it excitement? Unsheathing her sword from its hilt, Duva pressed it dangerously close to Loki’s neck. He only laughed, pleased with her actions. She was even angrier then, that he would delight in her wrath and grabbed his hair tightly in her hand, forcing him onto his knees and placing her blade against his neck. But he matched her, moving into her grasp, not smiling but looking almost giddy. He stretched his neck even closer to the blade, to her shock, as if he were _presenting_ himself to her.

Duva felt scandalized. Loki was enjoying this. Almost as if…

“You wish for me to harm you?” she asked quietly, feeling her grip on her sword lessen slightly.

Loki’s eyes widened, but he remained silent.

She threw down her sword, her fury reaching a boiling point. “Answer me!” she shouted, the echo bounced off the immaculate walls. She pulled him up so his face was level with hers. “You _will_ answer me, Loki Odinson. Was all this not an elaborate scheme to lure me to Asgard? What you wanted was my _punishment_?”

The prince, now brought to his knees, suddenly looked bashful. His eyes avoided hers, guilty at being found out.

Duva softened. She looked at the Aesir, so timid and reluctant. Had he never spoken of this desire aloud? Was he ashamed? She suddenly found herself caressing him, leaving a gentle hand in his hair while the other lifted his chin to will him to see her.

“Loki…” she had never said his name so softly before.

His eyes looked up into hers and his pale mouth opened slightly, the way Duva had seen so many maidens open theirs, the way _she_ had opened hers before to men worthy enough of her attention.

The dark-haired prince spoke quietly: “Yes.”

It was all Duva needed to hear. She smiled as she felt the tension leave his shoulders, finally able to admit to his wish.

She grabbed his head and pulled him in to kiss her. Though sharp words usually left his lips, they were surprisingly soft against hers. She did not reflect long, however, forcing him to accept her demanding tongue. A small grunt escaped his throat and Duva felt triumph as he submitted easily to her. She twisted her hand tighter into his hair and instead of trying to pull away, Loki pulled her closer, relishing the rough treatment. He tried to rise to his feet but she held his shoulders in place, knowing his knees were rubbing harshly against the marble floor. She removed her mouth from his and pulled his head back, revealing his neck. She bit the tender part where it joined with his jaw harshly. Surely it would leave a mark, one that would be impossible to hide. Duva lifted her head up when he cried out in pain.

“On this night, you belong to me,” she growled into his ear, all the earlier tenderness gone from her voice.

Duva grinned wickedly as she saw his eyes widen in fear. She grasped him by the collar and pulled him so close than their lips almost touched. But before she allowed Loki to kiss her again, she pushed him harshly. His knees gave out and he sprawled clumsily onto the floor and Duva couldn’t help but notice how beautiful he looked like this, his lips swollen and parted, cheeks the most delicious pink color, eyes wide with excitement and just a touch of worry, chest heaving at the exertion. She even saw the tightening in his trousers, telling her that this was exactly what he wanted. He was the picture of perfection. She sat down on his chest, her legs on either side of him. He squirmed as she rested her bottom on his lap, increasing the friction there.

“You _will_ pay for this slight.”

Loki whimpered quietly but nodded, accepting his fate. Duva smiled and caressed his face sweetly like she had before. He closed his eyes, easing into her touch. Then suddenly, she raised her hand and delivered a slap that resonated on his skin and the decorated walls. Loki shouted in pain, but grew quiet when he saw her reach for the knife he kept on his belt. It was a little thing, but very sharp, having just been honed that morning. The light from the sunset caught on the blade as Duva took the fabric of his shirt into her hands. She brought the blade to the fine cloth and heard the satisfying tear when she cut through it, not bothering with buttons and clasps. They managed to free him from his now ruined tunic and vest and Duva then began the arduous task of freeing him from his boots and trousers, leaving the knife forgotten.

She couldn’t help herself suddenly, moving to kiss his tender lips. Their tongues slid together as she claimed his mouth. He managed to caress her breasts and for a moment before his hands moved to hold her bottom tightly, much to Duva’s excitement. Her groans countered his whimpers that turned into shouts when she ran her sharp nails down his chest. The red marks she left in her wake were bright on his snow-white skin. She could tell he liked it and did it several more times, each scratch harder than the last. She made her way down his torso, pinching, leaving harsh bite marks and a few licks to sooth the burning. Loki tried to sit up to kiss her again, only to be forced down again with another fierce backhand.

“You will not move unless I allow it,” she instructed.

With that, he laid back, fearful of what she would do if he were to disobey an express order. Duva quickly divested him of his boots, holding his watchful gaze. She made a move to his trousers, but thought better of it. Let him stay like this, confined and frustrated and afraid. He was behaving for the most part, much more than she had anticipated. She still wasn’t sure if he deserved a reward, but she could not deny her own urges, either. She felt herself growing wet, the heated desire pooling at the apex of her thighs. She would have her way with him, but first…

She stood over him and Loki was in awe of her, still immaculate and terrifying in the gown he had only ever seen on a common whore. Duva lorded over him like the ocean waves against the shore. There was little he could do but except the fate he had drawn out for himself.

“Stand up,” she commanded.

Loki felt himself scrambling to comply as quickly as possible. When he rose, he still towered over her, but all of his majesty had disappeared, giving way to surrender. Duva was proud of her work. She grabbed his hair, in a familiar gesture, and kissed him hard. His hands were suddenly all over her and she allowed it, loving him feeling every area of her curves, from the softness of her breasts, her strong and muscular back and thighs, the undulation of her small waist and expansive hips and rear. Loki’s skill as a lover was exciting to witness; Duva was unbearably insatiable, finding his caresses calculated and delightful. He moaned as she harshly bit his lip and his hands greedily took in inch after inch of her body.

Duva wrapped her arms around his torso, her hands able to deliver the same attention to his back that his torso received. She let him kiss his way down her jaw to her neck and lightly nibble and suck there and her head fell back at the sensation. But she stopped short when she felt his wandering hands begin to pull on the gauzy fabric that covered her body, pulling it higher and higher up her thighs.

“Did I permit you to disrobe me?” she asked in a dangerously low voice.

Loki stopped cold, releasing the bunching material immediately from his hands, but it was not quick enough. She took his right hand in hers and looked him darkly in the eyes.

“I deserve to touch you!” He tried to intimidate her but the authority in his voice was gone. Duva narrowed her eyes at his insubordination.

“You would do well to watch your tongue, Odinson,” she hissed. With little time for him to react, she grabbed his throat in her hand and forced him backwards, pushing him harshly against the wall. He glared at her as she choked him. But Duva only snarled, moving her other hand to his trousers and grabbing his cock, now undeniably hard. She leaned close enough for their lips to touch as she spoke. “I am the one who controls your pleasure.”

She smiled viciously at the sound he made to that.

Then without ceremony, she pushed him back onto her knees. He hissed at the pain and looked up at her, eyes flashing with disobedience against her power.

“You wish to see what is under these robes, do you not?” she teased, her hands in his hair, tugging lightly but harshly.

Loki could only groan in response.

“Speak up!” she demanded.

“Y-yes,” he stammered.

She laughed impishly. “Then we can finally put that Silvertongue of yours to better use.”

With that Duva lifted her flowing skirts, tucking them into the bright gold belt on her waist. She then grabbed Loki roughly by the hair and pushed him down between her legs. He tried to fight her, shouting loudly as she lifted a leg to rest on his back. But he suddenly wrapped his arms around her bottom, grounding her, and buried his face between her thighs. His excited groans made her quiver and dig her heel into his back in anticipation.

He kissed her outer lips first then pushed through them with his seeking tongue. Duva moaned loudly as he licked her with veracity. His lips were soft and cool, the sensation making her cry out. Her head fell forward, her wild curls falling like a wave over her face. Loki lapped up her juices that flowed freely from inside of her and she felt herself panting as he tantalized her.

Loki took long, deliberate licks from bottom to top before settling on her clitoris. She cried out loudly when he flicked it with his tongue, only to suck gently on it. He moved one hand from caressing her invitingly large bottom and pushed one, then two long, delicate fingers inside of her. The jolt that ran through Duva forced her to open her eyes suddenly and when she looked down at him he was looking up at her and suddenly she wondered if he had been watching her this whole time. She held his gaze for as long as she could, meeting his challenge as she moaned loudly, loving the way her voice vibrated against the marble floor and golden walls.

She felt one hand lace itself into his hair, encouraging gently with the occasional pull. Loki seemed to be enjoying himself almost as much as she was, the look of absolute euphoria on his features while he kneeled before her like a man at an altar was decadent. He looked as if he could stay there for hours, maybe even days, worshipping Duva, his cruel mistress of the sea. Duva swore she would hold this image in her mind for the rest of her days.

He pulled back for a moment to admire his handy work, leaving his fingers inside of her. His eyes darkening at the sight before him, before diving back into the warm wetness she presented to him. Duva sighed at the feeling of his tongue against her clit again. Loki moaned when her hand yanked particularly hard on his hair. This urged him on as he licked her clit hungrily and plunged his fingers even deeper and faster inside of her, beseeching her to give him her climax.

And she did.

The look on Duva’s face caused Loki to lift his head from between her thighs. He was drawn to the curves of her open mouth as she cried out silently, her hands flailing, searching for an anchor in the maelstrom of her own pleasure. Her chest arched erotically into the air, her breasts shaking with her breath as the waves of pleasure fell slowly. Before she could stop him though, Loki stood and kissed her, both of them moaning heavily from exertion.

The kiss took Duva by surprise, but she welcomed it all the same. She felt herself slumping against the wall, her body feeling weak from her climax. Then Loki’s arms were around her waist and his hands were running possessively yet gently through her thick hair and his lips were on hers. She grabbed his arms fiercely as they kissed, Loki yielding to her as she sucked on his bottom lip, savoring her taste on him. Duva almost sighed as she felt his hands caressing her breasts through the flimsy material of her dress again. She could barely contain herself as he rubbed his length against her. The only solace she took in her abandon was the knowledge that Loki was even further gone, keening with desperation to be touched.

Duva wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. She kissed him fully and softly and loved the sound of his whining, knowing he was still desperately reveling in her embrace. When she pulled away, she looked into his eyes, begging for her to fulfill his desire. She laughed, lightly hitting his still rouge cheek.

“Lie down.”

And he did so with no complaint.

After removing her sandals, Duva was on him immediately, her legs straddling him, but refusing to touch or kiss him. Loki wiggled impatiently, his eyes growing more desperate. She ghosted her lips along his chest as she only awarded him a small bite on his nipples and a small lick here or there. When she traced her hands along the waist of his trousers, Loki cried out, but another smack on his chest quieted him, now more anxious than ever. But Duva would not give him what he wanted too easily.

“Tell me what you want, Loki,” she whispered into his torso, her voice vibrating cruelly against his skin.

He avoided her now questing eyes, writhing against her in a weak attempt to escape her grasp. Duva cooed at the total loss of his ego. She sat back up, resting her sex against his, her wetness still slowly pouring out of her. Her grin grew wicked as she rolled her hips, unhurried. She felt his hardness against her and breathed deeply to keep from moaning at the sensation, but she knew it was absolute torture for Loki.

“Tell me,” she said again, louder this time, never breaking eye contact with him.

Loki gasped for air as he felt her grind down on him. He was close to breaking but he knew that if he were to finish now, she would design far worse tortures for him to endure. He willed himself to stay strong, closing his eyes and breathing deeply for a few moments, regaining himself.

He opened his eyes and looked at Duva. The sun had finally set and the cool night wind blew through the windows and caressed her hair. The torches in the room flickered seductively against the walls and her face; she reminded him of the setting sun’s reflection on a windswept sea. She was vibrant and beautiful to behold and for this night, Loki belonged to her. He had witnessed her reach fulfillment before and now wished to see her again in all her erotic glory.

“I wish for you to mount me, Lady Duva,” he said, his voice airy and soft, so against his usual nature.

Duva smiled and kissed him, rubbing her hand against his straining cock. He moaned shamelessly. She had worn him down to his last reserves and his desire could no longer hide. She relished in the feel of his pliable flesh as she moved down his body again. She bared her teeth to him and pulled each button of his trousers apart with her teeth. Loki’s head fell back as his arousal was freed, hardly feeling the crown of his head hitting the hard floor as he felt her lips close around him.

He swore, promising to whatever heavenly orifices who were listening to abandon all of his misdeeds, all wrongdoing, innocent or not, if it meant Duva’s lips would never leave his cock. He groaned when he felt her take him deeper into her mouth, her tongue sliding along the bottom while he felt her hand reach up to grasp his balls. He knew better than to force her further down with his hands but he was want for something to hold onto. Duva loved the little sounds he made as she moved up and down along his length; when she swiped her tongue against the head of his cock he cried out so divinely. She removed her mouth with a loud pop of her lips leaving him and went about taking off his trousers entirely, leaving him completely nude.

Loki was quite beautiful, his soft pearl skin almost blended with the smooth marble floor. His hair, usually tame and slick was tousled due to her attentions. He was quite slim, his tight muscles clinging roughly to his bone; but he held a strength that set him apart from his far more sturdy and prodigious brother. Duva was strong, one of the strongest of her sisters, but she knew she was no match for a son of Odin. Loki could have easily overpowered her during her handling. He gave her complete control over this body he now presented to her so willingly.

Duva lifted her skirts as she sat on his lap and pulled his torso up to kiss him before laying him back down flat on the floor. Reaching behind her, she stroked him a few times, still adoring the delicious noises he made when she touched him. She lifted herself over him and held him under her, rubbing the head of his cock against her soaked opening. They both groaned at the contact and she could no longer tease them both.

Slowly, she lowered herself onto him. She hissed at his size as he entered her. It was absolute torture until he was buried deep inside of her. Loki’s eyes never left hers as they both let loose a sigh neither knew they were holding. Duva lifted herself slowly, and then brought herself down, adjusting to the feeling of him inside of her. She closed her eyes, her brow furrowed in concentration.

“Yes,” Loki moaned as he felt her begin to rise and fall more quickly, needing to feel the friction inside of her wet heat. He watched her, wonderstruck.

She used his chest as an anchor while she moved above him. The familiar tightening Duva felt earlier had returned and she yelled as she felt Loki rub against the ridges inside of her _just_ right…

Suddenly her dress felt too constricting. The fabric clung to her skin, damp with sweat. It was too hot, cumbering her movement. She stopped moving, the overwhelming necessity to feel his skin against hers was all-consuming. Loki saw her struggling with her golden belt and lifted himself, his hand extending to still her frustrated ones. Duva looked down at him, her eyes blazing with irritation, but his expression made her soften. Loki sat up, his other hand joining him in removing her cincture, the medal clashing against the floor when he threw it aside. Duva then surprised them both, taking Loki’s hands and resting them on hers as she moved to lift off her robes. Together they pulled her dress off.

Her attire did not hide her skin very well, but gazing upon her truly naked for the first time was evidence enough that the opaque glimpse he had seen of her body was naught but a fraction of her majesty. Her dark soft skin flickered against the torchlight and her hair softly cascaded down her back, bouncing gently. Her small waist gave way to her wide hips and thick thighs that cradled him delicately and invitingly. Loki’s eyes fell to her breasts and Duva did not stop him when reached to touch them. They amply filled his hands, the snow whiteness of his skin made hers seem even darker. He kissed and licked them almost possessively and she sighed when she felt him take a nipple into his mouth while his hands left fire in their wake across the expanse of her body. He flicked her clit as he passed it to reach around to hold her curvaceous backside. Duva convulsed around him at the contact and kissed him again.

“You’re beautiful,” he said before he could stop himself. But she only smiled.

They remained joined and Duva began to move again, holding onto his shoulders and resting her forehead against his. Loki grunted, feeling her tighten around him. He held her slim waist and moved with her while he placed gentle kisses against her exposed neck. She cried out to the ceiling when she felt him move in her with more force, her curls falling like waves down her back.

Loki laid back down, pulling her down with him and began to thrust into her with great urgency. She groaned happily at the sound of skin against skin, not at all phased by him taking control for the moment. Duva bit his chest roughly and he flinched, only to drive deeper into her. It was becoming too much and all at once. She kissed him again, biting his lip to demand entry into his mouth, which he gave without a thought. Duva felt his tongue slip against hers, their passion consuming them.

She sat up again, resting her hands against his shoulders this time to keep him in place below her. Loki was in reverie as he watched her move her backside but not her thighs, which pushed him in and out of her. Her vice like grip on his body while she squeezed him inside of her was becoming too much. He needed release, but not until Duva had tumbled again off the precipice of her desire.

She paused for a moment to catch her breath and then began to move again, grinding herself roughly against him and Loki knew then that she was near. Duva cried out at the feel of him completely immersed in her. She loosened her grip on his shoulders, dragging her nails across his chest again. Loki moved his hand to the apex of her legs and rubbed her clit furiously with his hand.

It was her undoing and Loki watched with excitement as she cried out even louder the first time, feeling _everything_ inside of her explode while she continued to grind against his lap, still seeking more. And suddenly she was there again and Loki was fighting to hold his own crisis back, wanting to watch her for as long as he could. Duva finally slowed her movements atop him, her back falling slack while she panted heavily. He sat up, holding her in his arms again and kissing her breasts softly. When Duva finally felt calm, she moved above him again, but painfully slowly. Loki whimpered quietly as he felt her tighten around him again and he knew he would not last any longer. He needed a release.

He looked up at her, eyes wide with resignation and desperation. Duva stared back, unmoved by his silent plea and squeezed her internal muscles. Loki yelled at the sensation. He was full, ready to burst. But he knew she would make him wait longer than he knew he could. He feared she might even leave him before he was satiated.

“Please,” he whispered so quietly Duva was not sure she heard him.

She smiled. He had finally broken. She cupped his cheek gently, but her voice betrayed her rancor. “Say it again,” she ordered, squeezing him again.

Loki bit his lip to keep from crying out so hard that he drew blood.

“ _Please_ ,” he implored and Duva was sure she had never heard a more pathetic adjuration.

She answered his prayer, grinding against him again while her internal muscles grasped him more tightly than ever. She saw his mouth form a circle and his eyes begin to close, but she demanded that he watch her. He complied, finding his arousal grow past the point he could recognize as pleasurable.

When he finally let go, it was glorious for him, and for Duva. He saw her wicked smile as he shouted his completion and he was not sure, but he thought he felt her convulse again around him while he released his seed inside of her. He was panting as he came down and Duva pulled him close to kiss him, needing to take what little energy he had left. She held him up as he rested his head against her soft bosom.

Neither of them knew how long they stayed like that, but Duva was the first to move, releasing Loki from the cradle of her thighs as she stood on shaking legs. He quickly rose and they helped the other find their balance. She smiled to herself as she felt his seed trickle down her thigh and he felt a sudden new arousal seeing his essence drip out of her.

Duva knelt down, at first reaching for her own dress, but changed her mind and instead took Loki’s trousers. They walked to the dais and she sat him down delicately on the stairs. She gently helped him into his trousers and then fetched his ruined tunic, which he magically repaired with the wave of his hand. Duva smiled at the brief spectacle and went to fetch his boots. Before sliding them on, she kissed both of his feet and looked up at him, his smile matching hers—a rare sight.

When Loki was properly dressed, he brought Duva’s clothing and sword to her, extending the same kindness. His delicate fingers exquisitely tied and strapped her sandals back to her shapely legs, which he kissed with the utmost admiration. Her dress was an easy task to slip her into, but the task proved difficult when neither wanted to leave the other’s lips for even a moment.

At one point Loki even ran his hand up the inside of her quivering thigh, catching some of his escaped seed on his fingers. But before he could do anything, Duva snatched his wrist, bringing the hand to her mouth and sucking his fingers clean. That time it was Loki who pulled her harshly into a kiss, already growing hard again at her wanton antics.

He caressed her left hip before they brought the golden belt back around her waist. Loki kneeled before her to kiss her stomach. Both were certain that nothing would be born of their union; but Duva rewarded the gentle act with a soft caress.

Neither knew where the newfound tenderness came from; they had been at each other’s throats just an hour ago and the events of their coupling hardly merited affection. But they were not opposed to continue their touches. Duva sighed gently into their kiss then rested her head against Loki’s chest, nuzzling him as he stroked her wild hair and kissed her forehead. They pulled apart and their eyes reflected the firelight from the torches.

“You are as insatiable as you are vicious, Duva,” Loki said—was that fondness in his voice? —, brushing a stray curl behind her ear.

“And you are impossibly disobedient,” she laughed sweetly. “I fear I may return to better instruct you in humility.”

Loki looked surprised (but quite pleased) as she walked to the grand doors of the chamber. “Oh?”

Duva thought wickedly of the guards that were posted outside, knowing that as the prince’s charges, they were the only witnesses to this dalliance.

“You have not seen the last of me for some time, Loki Odinson. I will return soon.”

“How soon?”

Duva just smiled and turned to leave.


End file.
